The Gardener's Son
by ViviChick
Summary: Vicki and Henry are on a new case while dealing with the aftermath of Norman. Can Henry help her heal? Will she let him? Low rating to start, will get higher.
1. Chapter 1

**The Gardener's Son – Chapter 1**

Vicki hung up the phone at her desk and took off her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose. The last client had been less than thrilled to learn of her husband's infidelity, suspected though it was. She was especially unhappy to learn that he was being unfaithful with their son's kindergarten teacher, Miss Julie. Looking at the clock she realized her growling stomach was correct; it was, in fact, time to order dinner. Closing the case folder, Vicki turned to put it in the file cabinet when she heard the receptionist phone ring in the outer office.

"Nelson Investigations, how can we help you?" Coreen answered, "Yes, we do… Uh, sure…" After an elongated pause, Vicki stood from her desk and walked into the reception room to see what was up. Upon finding Coreen flipping lazily through their office's ever growing collection of take-out menus and gently bobbing her head side-to-side, Vicki realized that she was listening to muzak.

"A client put you on hold?" the PI asked, incredulously.

The young gothette looked at her and shrugged, just as baffled as her boss, "I think it was his secretary."

"At this time of night? Who the hell is still at the office?" Vicki complained.

"Well, besides us?... _This_ guy and his secretary, I guess." Coreen shrugged again, earning her a narrow-eyed glance.

Sighing and sitting on the couch arm, Vicki asked, "Chinese or pizza tonight?" getting down to the real issue.

Coreen stopped bobbing her head and waved the question away, obviously listening to the now-present voice on the other end. "Yes, Sir… No, Sir, I'm her assistant. How can we help you?... Of course you can. Would you like to make an appointme…?" Coreen furrowed her brow, listening. "We usually meet a potential client _here_ for the first interview, Sir."

Vicki moved closer, propping her hip on Coreen's desk. She caught Coreen's eye and mouthed _He doesn't want to come in?_ Coreen shook her head. Impatient and hungry, Vicki held out her hand for the receiver, making a 'gimme' motion. "Hold on, Sir, here she is." Coreen said, relinquishing the phone.

"Vicki Nelson." She answered. And if her tone was a tad on the short side, well it had been a long day. "Yes, we are, but we conduct the initial interview in the office. We don't make house calls until we decide to take a case." She smirked to her assistant.

After a short pause, Vicki asked the man, "Did you file a report with the police?"

Whatever was said next on the other end, it made Vicki stand up and, after a moment, widen her eyes. Coreen mouthed _What?_ and got no response. Another long pause and Vicki replied, "That is a very generous offer. I'll have to speak to my associates about that, Mr. MacWoolton. Give a number where you can be reached to my secretary and I'll call you back tomorrow with our decision."

Coreen was practically vibrating with questions during the seconds it took for Mr. MacWoolton to answer her boss. Vicki said goodbye and handed the ear piece back. While Coreen took down the phone number and address of the potential client, her boss walked over to the window, digesting the conversation.

Hanging up, Coreen couldn't hold it in anymore, "What, Vicki? What generous offer? And exactly how generous are we talking here?"

Without turning around, Vicki said, "Mr. MacWoolton was robbed three weeks ago and he never reported it. He was away on business, but his butler called him right after it happened and he flew home. He says he'll pay us four thousand dollars just to meet with him at his house. Then we can decide if we're taking the case."

Bolting out of her chair and nearly bouncing over to her boss, Coreen cried, "Four _thousand_ dollars!? And we don't even have to take the case? Helloo!"

Vicki looked over her shoulder at the excited young woman, "It seems odd to me. Why would he offer that much just for a robbery when the PD could investigate for free? There has to be more to it… Of course, he does have a butler; he's obviously not your every-day-variety of rich. Maybe he's just used to throwing his money around to get his way."

"Like it _matters! _Vicki, this will set us up for the rest of the month, even if we don't end up doing the leg work." Coreen reasoned as she walked back over to her paper-strewn desk and, sitting, reached for the phone.

Vicki shook her head, "I have to think about it. We just closed another case. That money will hold us for a bit. I'm not sure we're quite desperate enough yet to walk into some stranger's house, sight unseen." When the blonde noticed the lack of take-out menu in front of Coreen, she inquired, "Who are you calling?"

"You said you needed to talk to your associ…Henry! Hi! Listen, we got an odd request from a client and we need you to come over."

Vicki broke in, "He's not a client, yet, Coreen."

Rolling her eyes, Coreen amended to the phone, "Ok, a _potential_ client offered us a butt load of money just to meet with him, but Vicki feels weird about it. Come over and tell her she's crazy." Deflecting Vicki's death glare with a sunny smile, Coreen chirped, "Thanks, Henry! See ya in a few!"

After the receiver was placed back in its cradle, the PI concentrated on her breathing for a few moments. When she felt she could speak without growling, Vicki looked her grinning assistant in the eye and declared with absolute finality, "No Chinese for you."


	2. Chapter 2

Not twenty-five minutes passed before a familiar shadow became visible through the office door's frosted glass panel. Henry walked into the office, squinting from the expected brightness, as he'd done on dozens of other occasions. He was fully prepared to play referee between Coreen and Vicki, and he had come prepared, carrying a balm to smooth all paths of negotiation between the two women; fresh coffee.

"Henry! Bless your cotton socks…it smells fabulous!" squealed his favorite gothette, her hands outstretched to receive the warm, liquid goodness.

"Do you have any idea how long it's been since I wore socks made of cotton?" He smiled conspiratorially and handed it over, "I guessed that it would be a long night. Now what is this case we're discussing?"

Having heard Henry's arrival, stepping out of her office and cleaning a smudge from her lenses, Vicki answered, "What Mr. MacWoolton told me so far was that there was a robbery at his house three weeks ago and he hasn't reported it to the police. He also said he would rather not discuss the particulars over the phone."

"_William_ MacWoolton?" Henry asked, intrigued.

"Yes." Vicki looked up, interest piqued, "Friend of yours?"

"No. We've never met. But about forty years ago, he made quite a name for himself in this city, the Stanford White of his day. He founded the most successful architectural firm in Ontario. They designed a few museums in the late sixties and most of the business district as well. What was taken?" Henry asked, handing over the second steaming cardboard cup.

Gratefully, Vicki took it, removing the plastic lid to inhale the reviving aroma, "He didn't say, but it must be either something he gained illegally or something he doesn't want commonly known to be missing. Why else would he not file a report? I doubt he's still an active partner in the firm, he's gotta be in his seventies at least. Old architectural plans, maybe? Blueprints?"

"Hmmm… perhaps." Henry said non-commiltally.

Coreen, who until now had been sipping her coffee, watching this exchange, decided to interject what seemed the obvious solution, "Weeelll, you could go to the meeting, take his big fat check, and find out…"

"Coreen, we're good with money for the next month or so. We don't need to take this." Vicki re-stated.

Not backing down, Coreen continued, "It would be good to have a savings account for the business, don'tcha think? Then, we can afford to turn down the cases that are _obviously_ dangerous when we really _do_ need the money!"

It was often that the two women disagreed, but never had Henry known Vicki to hesitate to take a paying job. If anything, it was a struggle to keep her _non_-paying cases to a minimum, so great was her compassion for those who needed her help. Coreen was right to call him; not because he intended to convince the blonde ex-cop of anything, but because Henry had noticed a change in her lately. She second guessed herself more. It wasn't a trait that he considered compatible with Victoria Nelson.

"I should accompany you to the meeting" said Henry.

"Did I miss the part when I decided that I _am_ going?" Vicki asked her companions.

Coreen, mind made up, stood, "Vicki, you're _going_! You don't have to take the case, but not going to the _four thousand dollar_ meeting would be pointless. Especially since a big, strong, growly vampire has so gallantly offered to escort you." This earned an amused smirk from said vampire and an exasperated sigh from the PI.

"Ok, ok… we'll go. But NO promises, alright? The moment this case sounds at all hinky, we walk away, got it?" Vicki declared, walking toward her assistant's desk and began sorting through the day's mail.

Eyebrow raised, Henry inquired, "Hinky?"

"Not kosher, rancid, sketchy, suspect…" supplied the ever helpful Coreen.

"Thank you, Coreen, I understood you. What I meant was, since when is 'hinky' a disqualifier for your cases?" reasoned Henry.

Vicki turned to him, still not meeting his eyes, "I just think we could cut down on the amount of crazy we take in, that's all."

Allowing the subject to temporarily rest, Henry instead asked, "When is the meeting set for?"

"We didn't make one yet. I took his number and address. He lives over an hour from here, outside of town." Coreen supplied, handing the notepad to the vampire.

He looked it over, "I know this area. Old money settled there late nineteenth century. Mostly immigrants from Great Britain and Scandinavia."

"Explains the butler." Vicki said, looking at her assistant.

"Can I call Mr. MacWoolton back, now?" she grinned hopefully.

Sighing, Vicki gave in, "Alright. Call him back and ask him what evening he's free."

With a triumphant smile sent Henry's way, Coreen picked up the receiver and dialed.

Two nights later, Vicki had spent nearly fifty minutes avoiding the subject Henry was so subtly, but consistently trying to bring up. And since the car was currently doing 45 kph, she could hardly jump out of conversing distance. Ever since Norman had been sent to hell… again… perhaps she was a _tad_ more choosy about the cases she signed on for. Nothing wrong with that, in her opinion. She could still do good work without putting everyone's lives at risk. Not everything had to be incubi, zombie queens and Egyptian necromancers, after all.

Henry watched Vicki out of his peripheral vision while he drove. Each time he steered the discussion towards their last supernatural case, she visibly stiffened. He doubted she was even aware of it, herself. It had been nearly two months since Norman was sucked back into the ninth circle and still, she hesitated. He hated the fact that Asteroth 'claimed" her for some reason or another, too, but it was not something they could immediately remedy. What bothered Henry most about Vicki's involvement with the occult was that her main concern wasn't for herself, but for Coreen, Celucci and even him. Henry didn't need her hesitant, he needed her angry and ready to fight, because a fight was inevitable whether she wished to avoid it or not.

Taking exit 15a, Henry drove into the town named Lac Bleu where the address led him. He hadn't been in this area of Toronto in many years. So much had changed, but no matter where he went, New Orleans to Vancouver; old money in the new world always looked the same. Gothic and Victorian edifices built far back on sprawling, green lawns, dotted with elderly oaks and maples.

Finding the car plunged into a long silence, yet again, Vicki announced, "Y'know I had Coreen research the MacWooltons yesterday. They were a poor clan from Scotland who came over to find more land. Apparently they've been here since the early eighteen-hundreds and they were masons until the third generation."

Henry slowed to begin reading the street signs on the right hand side. "Uh huh." He replied, concentrating on the street names.

Vicki continued, unfazed, "One of the sons apprenticed with a master carpenter and eventually bought the business. That ensured the formal education of the following generations and it seems they've been in the money ever since. His daughter is an architect with the family business, and his son is a surgeon in Alberta. MacWoolton senior's name popped up on a few museum donor lists and a hospital contribution board."

"Well, his firm did design a museum or two. Seems natural…" Henry said, now reading house numbers.

Another few minutes brought the detectives to a set of tall stone pillars framing a wrought-iron gate in the Edwardian style, shielding a long, cobblestone drive leading to the MacWoolton estate. There was an intercom on a post next to the left pillar. The gates quickly opened, allowing them entrance once the intercom voice asked for and received their names.

Now, Vicki had seen some beautiful homes during her time as a police officer. Riches certainly were not a deterrent to crime, but _this_ was something else entirely. This guy had wealth. It was understated, though, no flashy cars on first inspection. No armed guards, no pretentious fountains or marble statues on the lawn, though obviously well cared for. Henry parked in the circular drive by the front entrance and exited the car, waiting for Vicki to join him.

"Well, this isn't intimidating in the slightest." Vicki snarked as she and Henry walked from the car. "Rich people always have secrets. The bigger the secret, the more they're willing to break the rules to keep them safe." Vicki said as she began to climb the front steps. "I can't believe we're doing this."

"We'll listen to him, see what he wants and if you don't like it we'll leave." Henry repeated.

"Yeah, well now I'm curious." She frowned.

Before either of them could knock, the right side of the large, carved double doors were opened by the butler, "Victoria Nelson and Henry Fitzroy," the tall, suited man stated, motioning them into the grand foyer. Henry barely gave the stately front hall a glance, but Vicki couldn't help herself, it was magnificent. This is precisely the kind of home she would imagine when she read the historical fiction she enjoyed so much.

"Yes. We have an appointment to meet with Mr. MacWoolton." Henry said.

"I am Richard Morris, Mr. MacWoolton's butler." He told them, adjusting his wire-framed glasses to sit higher on his nose. "You are right on time. Please follow me, the study is this way."

As they were led across the foyer to a long hallway with carved mahogany walls and family portraits, Vicki couldn't help but think of fireplaces and snifters of brandy. She figured that her vampire partner would be unimpressed by such surroundings and she was right. Maybe there was more than one reason it had been a good idea to bring him along.

Mr. Morris stopped before a door towards the end of the hall, gave a knock and when he received permission, entered. He held the door open for the two detectives following him, and looked to his employer, "Will you be requiring anything, sir?"

The man at the desk, who sat reading and making notations in a notebook, looked up. "Not at the moment, Morris, thank you."

He was much as Vicki had assumed. A man in his early seventies, vibrant and well-groomed, wearing a shirt and waistcoat, sitting behind a heavy desk made of dark wood. Mr. MacWoolton was wearing his years very well, some soft wrinkles at his mouth and around his eyes, a jaw line that obviously used to be more chiseled in his prime; he remained a handsome man. He pushed back from the desk, Vicki assumed, to stand and greet them. Instead, he remained seated and rolled himself around the desk, maneuvering his wheelchair closer to shake Vicki's hand. _Ah,_ she thought, _hence_ _the meeting at the house._

His green eyes sparkled as he smiled at them both, "I am Bill MacWoolton, Ms. Nelson; It is a pleasure to meet you. Mr. Fitzroy, a pleasure. Please make yourselves comfortable. Would you like some water, tea?" He inquired.

Vicki took the seat nearest to him, Henry the next. "No thank you, Mr. MacWoolton." She answered, looking to Henry, "We're both fine"

The older gentleman positioned his chair back a few feet, and poured himself a cup of tea from the set on a side table, "I want to thank you both for driving all the way out here, this is not a matter I would like to bring attention to."

"Of course, sir, our business depends on discretion." Vicki assured the man, hoping he'd tell them what matter would be benefiting from their discretion.

Henry, always sensing Vicki's level of annoyance, asked, "What would that matter be, Mr. MacWoolton? You mentioned a theft when you called."

"Yes, I did. Just over eleven thousand dollars of silver was stolen." He answered, taking a sip from his cup.

Not even batting an eye, and silently congratulating herself for it, Vicki inquired, "I'm not sure I understand. A robbery of that amount would be very easy for the police to recover if the thief tried to sell the silver. Why the need for secrecy?"

Mr. MacWoolton set his cup back in its saucer on the side table and considered his next words, "Well, Ms. Nelson, Mr. Fitzroy, I have done a little research into your past cases through a mutual friend of ours, so I feel confident that you will be able to assist with my _particular_ problem."

Vicki, patience slipping, screwed on her best professional smile and said, "We will do our very best. What happened the night of the robbery?"

"Oh, you will have to ask Morris for the details, I was filled in after the fact. But the issue I hope you can help me with began shortly afterwards." He began, picking up his saucer again.

Apparently, she needed to be more direct, "Mr. MacWoolton, can you tell us _exactly_ when your problem began?"

After another sip of his tea, the gentleman paused, looked each of them in the eye and said, "My problem began the night I was awakened by the ghost."


	3. Chapter 3

The Gardener's Son- Ch 3

One slow blink was all the reaction that Vicki allowed herself. She was more than a little skeptical of his claim. Mr. MacWoolton sat patiently, sipping his tea, waiting for one of the detectives to speak.

Finally, after a moment to consider, Henry asked, "What state was the ghost in?"

Putting his cup and saucer down, the older gentleman inquired, "State?"

"Yes, it's state." Henry replied, leaning farther back in his chair, and steepled his fingers before his chest, "Was it misty or translucent in appearance? Did it appear to you bloody or wounded at all? Was it calm or did it seem distressed? Angry?" Vicki looked at her partner in silent question, wondering where this was coming from. Henry returned her glance, and then addressed their client, "It will be of great help if you can tell us."

"Well," he said, fidgeting with his tie, thinking, "I've seen him several times now. He appears solid enough, though faded, like in an old photograph. He looks alive and well, but for the light that shines from him. It almost seems as if there is a lantern in the room; that's what always wakes me, the light."

Picking up the questioning, Vicki asked, "And his mood, Mr. MacWoolton?"

"He never says anything, or makes any sound. He just stands at the foot of my bed looking very sad and concerned, like he's disappointed with something." The man replied, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle in his suit trousers.

Vicki mumbled under her breath, "Yeah, death can be a letdown." earning her a raised eyebrow from her vampire.

Mr. MacWoolton continued, "He seems to want something. He looks at me, then turns and walks towards the door, a _locked_ door, looks at me again over his shoulder and walks right through. It's as if he expects me to follow." Vicki noticed his breathing was still even, but his hand gripped his armrest a bit tighter.

There was a silence in the older man's study as the detectives processed the information. Finally, her natural curiosity won out, "How did you hear of us, Mr. MacWoolton? You mentioned we have a mutual acquaintance?"

Back on comfortable ground, Mr. MacWoolton straightened, "Yes, Rajani Mohadevan suggested I contact you when I mentioned that I had a… how shall we say… unique problem."

"Ah, yes. Victoria mentioned that you were on a hospital board. I didn't know it was St. Michael's." Henry exclaimed, "I do hope you met through her affiliation there instead of through her main position."

The old man smiled, "Yes. We met at a fundraiser six years back. My granddaughter attends school with one of her nieces."

"And you told Rajani about the ghost?" Vicki interjected.

He furrowed his forehead and insisted, "Of course not, Ms. Nelson. I simply mentioned that I needed something of an unusual nature looked into. I thought she might have contacts through her work with the police and she immediately recommended you."

"And what made you think we'd have experience with this kind of case?" Vicki asked.

Looking chagrinned, Mr. MacWoolton confided, "I'd rather hoped you would look into the matter and discover it to be a prank, or the feeble-minded delusions of an old man."

Henry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eye to eye with their host, "It may yet prove to be a prank, but you don't think that's what this is."

"No, I'm afraid that I don't" Mr. MacWoolton said, looking suddenly ten years older with the admission. "His name is Adam Trent."

This surprised Vicki and she and Henry shared a look before she asked, "You _know_ the ghost?"

"Yes. That is, I know the boy. He's the son of my gardener. He's been missing since the night of the robbery." Mr. MacWoolton said.

"And a missing person case was filed with the police, right?" Vicki asked.

"Yes, of course. His parents are very worried about him." said the man, "We all are. He's only 13." It obviously pained the man to speak of it.

Vicki pursued the line of questioning, "Have the police contacted you or the Trents with any developments?"

"No, not me. I assume they've spoken to the family though." He answered. "They have had a very difficult time in the past months. My gardener, Jacob, had a massive heart attack and a triple by-pass two months ago. He's been slowly recovering, and now this." Resting his head in his hand, Mr. MacWoolton sighed. "I want this to be a stupid, youthful prank. Adam was a good boy. He was here every weekend growing up, watching his father work, or playing with my grandchildren… Why would he come to me?"

"You mean, why would he appear to _you_ like this?" Vicki clarified.

Mr. MacWoolton just nodded.

Henry watched their host intently for a few moments, then said, "Victoria and I will have to discuss this, Mr. MacWoolton. I admit that though we are frequently faced with out of the ordinary cases, that we have never investigated a haunting."

A tired and rueful grin graced his softly lined face, "Thank you both again for agreeing to this meeting." He turned his wheelchair to return to his desk, "I hope you decide to take the case. I believe it may lead to information the police could use to find Adam. Perhaps then he can rest peacefully."

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Vicki fingered the four thousand dollar check in her jeans pocket while Henry waited for the red light to change. They had not spoken much since leaving the house, each considering what they had learned. Vicki had been watching the old man fidgeting and fussing while he described the ghostly encounter. He was hiding something, she had known, but she never thought that the information he had been sitting on was the phantom's identity. "Was he telling the truth, Henry?"

Still waiting for the traffic light, he turned to look at her, "Yes. At least he thoroughly believed everything he told us." Glancing back at the light, willing it to turn green, he continued, "heart beat steady, breathing even… voice faltered at times, but he's out of his comfort zone."

"Comfort zone?" Vicki asked with a smirk.

"Well, I would count the appearance of an apparition by my bed as a rather _un_comfortable situation, wouldn't you?" he returned.

"Mike would know the status on the missing persons investigation… Coreen will jump for joy at the chance to flex her google-fu." She said, mostly to herself.

Finally easing into the intersection leading to the highway, Henry smiled. He knew the answer, but he asked the question regardless, "We're taking the case, aren't we?"

Vicki sighed, resigned, "Yes, Henry, we are taking the case."


	4. Chapter 4

Gardener's Son- Ch 4

Always the first to arrive at the office, Vicki was a little surprised to find Coreen already at her desk. Yet there she was, all kohl-eyed and bushy tailed; two of them, actually. She had secured her elaborately curled pigtails with electric blue plastic bows just behind each ear. They matched the shiny pleather corset she was wearing, and did not at _all_ match the fuchsia eye-shadow.

Averting her eyes, Vicki thought, _Can't look until caffeine has been consumed,_ deliberately focusing on the steaming cardboard coffee cups waiting on her garishly-clad assistant's desk.

Looking up expectantly, eyes wide, Coreen was resolute to wait for her boss to speak. She wouldn't pester her, Coreen decided; she'd sit patiently and Vicki would fill her in when she was settled. She watched as Vicki took her first sip of coffee and then raised it in silent thanks. Vicki continued to drink as she next put her bag down and leisurely flipped through the message pad. Seeing her pick up a stack of bills and turning towards the inner office, the young goth could contain herself no longer. "So? Tell me! What happened? Is he our client now? What's the case?!"

"You held out for a full eleven seconds, I'm proud." Vicki muttered, not looking up, as she continued on her way.

Coreen followed her, huge grin, pleading, "Will you just tell me so I can get my research on?"

Lowering herself into her chair, the PI decided she'd had enough coffee to attempt eye contact, and looked at Coreen, who was practically squirming with anticipation. Vicki thought of how to best explain what she and Henry had learned the previous evening. What was she thinking? This was Coreen. "It seems he has a ghost."

"Really?!", her assistant squealed, "That is so cool! Is it an ancestor that's trying to warn him of some impending doom? Was there stuff thrown around everywhere, 'cause it could be a poltergeist…"

Interrupting the excited chatter, Vicki grimly said, "A 13-year-old boy, whose father works at the house, disappeared the night of the robbery. He's the ghost Mr. MacWoolton says he saw."

Sinking into the client chair, Coreen paused looking thoughtful, "A message haunting then."

"Message haunting?" Vicki asked.

"They're usually recently dead people who left something unfinished, like warning someone of danger or delivering a message to a loved one. They're rarer than your average apparition that's forced to reenact a trauma over and over for eternity."

"So, not so common." Vicki considered, briefly recalling the prank theory.

"Nope. Not at all. The wailing, bloody kind happens much more often than you'd think. Some of the most famous 'tortured soul' ghosts are in Western Europe. France, Scotland, Eng-" Coreen's face suddenly lit with a thought; "_Actually_, you should ask _Henry! _At least three of the most famous are ghosts of people he knew! How's _that_ for historically accurate info?" Coreen was beaming; she was so taken with the idea.

Vicki winced, "I'm not so sure Henry would want to regale us with tales of his old friends whose souls are stuck in endless terror and pain."

"Oh, I don't think they were people he liked, Vicki. In fact th-"

"No, Coreen." Vicky said firmly

Coreen considered this, "Hmm. So…internet, then?"

"No. First I need you to call Mr. MacWoolton's office and tell him that we're taking his case." Vicki said.

With a satisfied smirk, Coreen stated, "I knew you'd take it."

"The Amazing Kreskin, you are." She retorted. Stretching, she continued, "Make sure you ask him when it would be alright for me to come by and begin interviewing his staff. I have to ask Mike about the kid's missing person file and check for antique silver at some pawn shops." Vicki reached for the phone.

Standing to go call their new client from the reception desk, Coreen was stopped by a thought, "What was his name?"

Vicki looked up and saw concern in her young assistant's face, "Adam Trent."

Coreen nodded and went to the door, closing it behind her, leaving Vicki alone.

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The familiar throat-clearing was a welcome interruption to his day. Mike hadn't seen Vicki in weeks due to her recent cases being the non-lethal kind. He smiled to himself, being sure to hide his grin before he looked up from his reports.

"Hey there, Vic. Perfect timing. I was just _thinking_ how nice it would be if someone bought me lunch," he said, blue eyes sparkling with humor.

She smirked and sat in the interview chair by his desk. "First you've gotta earn that lunch, mister. I need some information on a current missing person case."

"Ahhh, and here it comes," Mike grinned, leaning back in his seat, linking his hands behind his head, "Did a demented tooth-fairy take someone? A mermaid, perhaps?"

Narrowing her eyes, Vicki sent him her 'you think you're so funny' look. "I have a client who had a robbery three weeks ago. The son of one of his servants went missing that night. A report was filed. I'd like to know if there have been any leads."

Mike sat up straight and asked, "A report was filed and the employer of the kid's parents is hiring you to look for him, too?"

"Not… exactly." Vicki said, hating what she knew came next.

His lips pressed into a firm line, Mike quickly glanced around the squad room for potential eavesdroppers before leaning forward and in a lowered voice, asking, "Not…exactly? How 'not exactly' is it, Vic?"

Vicki leaned forward as well and considered her next words along with their intended audience, "My client is pretty convinced that the boy is dead."

"Well, after the first forty-eight hours those are the odds," Mike reasoned, "Any chance he is so convinced because he killed the kid himself?"

Shaking her head, Vicki replied, "No. He was telling the truth, Mike. Breathing and heartbeat were both steady. He was truly concerned."

Sighing, Mike rested his head in one hand, whining, "Vicki,… Vicki,… heartbeat?" He opened one eye and accused, "Fitzroy was there. Is this one of _those_ cases? C'mon, just… tell me the rest."

Not wanting to mention that she and Henry had teamed up _before_ the 'hinky' ensued, Vicki answered, "My client was visited by the boy's ghost shortly after his disappearance."

Mike looked down at the floor before his feet and closed his eyes, trying to censor his next words. He had to be careful what he said because Vicki got defensive when it came to _these_ cases. She didn't want him telling her how insane it all sounded. Besides, he'd told her before.

He ended up settling on, "And you need to know the leads on the missing person case because… why?"

Vicki rolled her eyes at the question, "If we find out how he died, then maybe… we can figure out what he wants and help him to move on."

"Oh, of course…" Mike said, pretending it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Goodness knows that bright white light with the singing choir of angels must be difficult to place."

That was it. "You don't have to be such an asshole, Mike! We are talking about a thirteen-year-old boy who's been missing for _three weeks!_" Vicki took a deep breath, calming herself slightly before she continued, "Chances are that Adam is dead. I just need a jumping off point to help me figure out what happened to him."

Mike sat back in his chair, looking away for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of encouraging her. He had hoped that after the last demon lord from another dimension popped through the floor and tried to devour them all, that she'd see reason!

_That sentence doesn't belong in my life, _Mike internally moaned. _She'll investigate this case whether I help her or not. _

"Promise me that you'll share whatever details you uncover in your investigation." Mike stated.

Vicki thought it was only fair, but warned, "I may find the kind of stuff you don't like hearing about."

The man looked her in the eye, "Vic, if it's happening in my city, it's not a matter of '_want_ to know.' I need you to promise."

There was only a short pause before, "Ok. You got it."

Decision made, the cop looked at his friend and ex-partner and gave a rueful smile, "I'm in the mood for Chinese."

Smiling back, Vicki said, "What a surprise." Standing and patting his shoulder, she said, "C'mon, big guy. Let's go eat. We have a case to discuss."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It had taken both Vicki and Coreen over three hours to call all of Toronto's pawnshops to inquire about any new arrivals of antique silver in the past three weeks. Only eight of them had. Not a single one had anything like the silver that Mr. MacWoolton's butler had described to her over the phone.

Ever since Norman's return trip to Hades, Vicki had been tiring more easily. Not a physical need for sleep, but more a mental desire for peace; a desire to put her life back into neatly manageable boxes. Part of the detective was glad she knew what was really out there, sharing the world with her and all the unsuspecting people. Another part, the part she sometimes feared may be the larger, wanted it to all just go away for awhile.

Now Vicki was in the cab back from the last pawn-shop on her list, trying to imagine the bare trees she knew were being buffeted by the February wind outside, when her cell phone rang. She caught herself wearing a tired and grateful grin, her heart rate speeding up. She could guess who it was; twilight had just descended on Toronto.

"Hi, Henry," she answered, "No… no luck so far. I'm headed back to the office. Can you meet me there?" Running through the mental list of remaining avenues a thief might try to unload antique silver, she only partially registered Henry's question. "Hmmm?... Oh, yeah. Mr. MacWoolton said we could come over this evening around 5:30." She was eager to begin interviewing the millionaire's staff members. Getting the vampire's acquiescence, Vicki confirmed, "I'll see you in a few minutes then. Bye."

Hanging up his phone, Henry began his preparations for the evening. There was another long drive ahead of them and he did not intend to let it go to waste. His Victoria was an expert at dodging conversations she did not wish to engage in, but he had the patience of a saint and the tenacity of a mule when he wished. He did not expect it would be easy; attaining worthwhile goals never were. Vicki was more than worth the battle.

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Twenty minutes into the drive, Vicki had updated her partner on the fruitless search through Toronto's pawn shops and her lunch meeting with Mike.

"No leads at all? Vicki, I don't like the implications of that," Henry said.

Shaking her head, Vicki restated, "Not one. There has been no activity on his cell phone, no contact with friends, no sightings… nothing. He's just gone."

Pursing his lips, Henry reasoned with some regret, "A boy his age would have sought some safe harbor by now. We can safely assume that he's dead, then."

Vicki sighed, "Yes. We can assume." She hated the cases involving children. As a human being, one tried to hold out hope, but in this case there was precious little of it left.

A drawn out silence filled the car, each occupant mired in their own thoughts. Vicki was asking herself how Adam's disappearance could fit Mr. MacWoolton's ghostly sighting. Henry was thinking of a way to ask Vicki 'how she was doing' without losing a limb. Her frequent sighs and stifled yawns had not gone unnoticed. What she needed was a night in. Some take-out and a few leather bound tomes of ghostly lore would do her good.

Henry drew a breath and plunged head first into the matter, "Vicki, I've been thinking, perhaps we should sit down with some of my texts and research the ghost's appearance."

"What is there to research?" Vicki asked, trying to find his meaning.

"There have been hauntings as long as there have been humans on this earth. I'm sure we can find a record of something similar happening. Many ghosts are the noisy, disruptive sort, so that immediately narrows our search," Henry stated, smiling encouragingly, "Coreen certainly wouldn't mind pouring over historical accounts of ghostly sightings on the internet."

"She said it sounded like it could be a message haunting," Vicki murmured, almost to herself, remembering.

"Possible," the vampire mused, "They're rare, especially in this day and ag..." Catching Vicki's expression from the corner of his eye, Henry inquired, "What?"

Vicki looked at him and shrugged, "Nothing. You just seem to know a lot about ghosts is all. The other night with the client and now this…" trailing off, awaiting his answer.

"Does that surprise you?" Henry smiled, "I don't know _very_ much about ghosts, but I've heard things in my travels. I've seen and experienced more than you can imagine, Vicki."

_I'll just bet you have,_ the PI thought, smiling despite herself. Changing the subject, Vicki began to prep him for the evening, "Ok. I'll be interviewing the butler tonight and I'll need you outside sniffing out the perimeter of the house."

Eyebrow raised, Henry nearly scoffed, "_Sniff out?_ Victoria, must I explain to you the difference between a vampire and a bloodhound again?"

"Oh, that's not what I meant. I mean…" Vicki demonstrated with incredibly vague hand gestures, "See if you can smell any intruders around the possible points of entry, look for footprints; that sort of thing."

"Three weeks is a long time, Vicki, especially for a house that employs a full-time housekeeper. I'll try, but I can't promise anything." Henry warned.

"That's all I can ask." Vicki assured him, "Thank You. I'll speak to Morris and finally get some details on this robbery."

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After their arrival at the mansion and a brief meeting with Mr. MacWoolton updating him on the status of Adam's missing person case, Henry excused himself to see what he could detect outside. The housekeeper, Mrs. Crume showed Vicki to a sitting room down the hall from Mr. MacWoolton's study and was told that Morris would be joining her shortly. True to her word, the tall, proper man entered not a full minute later.

Taking a moment to study him more closely, Vicki could see he was a thin, silver-haired man in his 60's. He didn't appear frail, per se, but the lines in his face belied a weariness that was clear. Despite this, he smiled warmly at the detective and gave a half-bow, "Miss Nelson, I understand that you wanted my account of the robbery."

"Yes. Please have a seat, this may take awhile," Vicki said.

"Before I do, would you care for refreshment?" he asked, dutifully.

"No, thank you," Vicki answered, "Now, Mr. Morris," she said, when the older Englishman had seated himself, "Tell me what happened. Everything you can remember."

"One night, some three weeks ago, Miss," the old butler began, "I was wakened in the night by noises which I was sure were coming from my pantry, which is directly below my room. At first I thought I must be mistaken, for immediately before I had retired for the night I had made my rounds of the house, as I always do, and checked that every window and door were secured. However, when the noises continued and it was certain that someone was in the room below, thinking it must be one of the servants who had no business to be there, I decided to go down to see what was afoot."

Vicki expertly hid her eye roll by writing in her notepad. '_Afoot'. This guy could be Henry's age._

He continued, "But when I reached for my pantry key, which I always place in my nightstand drawer, it was missing. So, I pulled on my robe and went to investigate. When I came to the passage outside my pantry, it was clear to me that I had not been mistaken because a light in the pantry was shining under the door. That's when I heard men's voices talking quietly and was convinced, I am ashamed to say, that Robert and Hugh were going about some nefarious act."

Vicki broke in, confused, "Robert and Hugh?"

"Yes," Morris said, startled out of the story, "Robert DiLeo is our cook and Hugh Barnes is the chauffer."

"Why did you assume that they weren't just getting something to eat?" Vicky asked him.

Looking at her like she was missing something, Morris explained, "Firstly, Miss Nelson, it is not that type of pantry. The butler's pantry is where we keep the silver and more valuable china. I possess the _only_ key. I became suspicious because of the time of night, the fact that no one is allowed in the pantry without my permission, and because of other sounds issuing from the room."

"What did you hear?" Vicki asked, taking more notes.

"Sounds that seem to indicate to me," the butler continued, "that one of the strong-boxes in which the silver is kept was being broken into. It sounded to me like the padlock was being rattled or tampered with."

Vicki looked up, wondering, "Did you really suspect the voices you heard belonged to the cook and the chauffeur? How long have you known them?"

"I was employed long before either joined the household." The butler stated, "Mr. DiLeo has been with us six years and Mr. Barnes, nearly nine." Morris explained. "You must understand, there were two men's voices, Miss, and they were talking too low for me to recognize them, but I am afraid that the thought did come to my mind that it must be them, because I could not imagine who else it could be. As far as I knew, we three were the only men in the house that night."

"And all of you live here at the house?" Vicki asked, adjusting her glasses to sit higher on her nose.

"No. Only I and Mr. Barnes do. Mrs. Crume and Mr. DiLeo were also staying here that night because of the snowstorm that had begun. She lives some way from here and she didn't feel comfortable driving in the snow. Mr. DiLeo, as I recall, had a local charity function the next day that he was cooking for, and so decided to stay here."

Vicki nodded, adding the housekeeper to the list of possible suspects, "Ok, so you had a full house except for your boss. What happened then?"

"Well," Morris began, "because I assumed it was the cook and chauffeur, it didn't occur to me to call for help. I was the only other man in the house and Mrs. Crume would not have been of much assistance, even had she been awake."

Vicki looked at the older man, wondering what he thought _he_ could have done, "You seem like a smart man, Mr. Morris. You must have known that whoever was breaking into the pantry, doing what you were sure they were doing, would attack you if they were interrupted," Vicky reasoned. "Even if you were a much younger man, you said you heard _two_ intruders. Why go in?"

"It did occur to me the next day, I admit, but that night my only instinct was stopping them from stealing the silver." Morris said, more than a little embarrassed.

"The silver is replaceable, Mr. Morris. Your life is not." Vicki said, sternly. She had seen too many civilians get killed being brave and this man was many years past the age when he should try. "You should have just called the police and waited for them to arrive."

"Yes, Miss Nelson, I realize that now," the old man said, anguish clear in his tone.

"In any case, you went in to discover…?" Vicky prompted.

"I walked towards the door, as quietly as I could and took hold of the doorknob. I waited until I was certain they hadn't heard me, and then I flung the door wide, intending to take them by surprise. However, when I opened the door I saw two men I had never seen before in my life and…" Mr. Morris glanced towards the table to his left and hesitated.

"What did you see, Mr. Morris?" Vicki asked, trying to keep the narrative flow going. He had to get out everything he remembered about that night.

Closing his eyes, the butler took a breath, "And with them stood Adam Trent," he admitted.

Vicki stared at him, astonished that this was the first she was hearing of this, "Wait. You are saying that you _saw_ Adam that night?"

Uneasy and obviously defensive, Morris said, "Yes, Miss. He was in my pantry holding a lantern."

Still incredulous, Vicki asked, "And you didn't tell the detectives who are looking for him because…?"

"I assumed that he would turn up. He must have used his father's key to the house to let himself and the other men in. His family is going through some difficult times. I'm certain he would have to be rather desperate to consider stealing from Mr. MacWoolton. We have known the child all his life." The old butler protested, "I did not want a criminal charge added to their troubles."

Sighing at how Morris' 'good intentions' had royally screwed this up, Vicki asked him, "Can you describe these men to me? The intruders?"

Narrowing his gaze, thinking back, Morris said, "I only saw them for a moment when I opened the door. And the light was rather dim," Looking up, he explained, "Before I could recover from the shock, the shorter one came at me brandishing an iron bar. I remember ducking, trying to avoid the blow, but he didn't miss. I was hit so hard on the head that I was rendered unconscious, I am afraid."

Vicki could still see the faint yellow of a healing bruise along his hairline. She added this to her notes and asked him what happened next.

"When I woke, I was alone in the pantry. The strongboxes had been left open and I could see they were empty. I tried the door to find I had been locked in." Morris said.

"Did you call for help?" asked the PI.

Morris sighed wearily, "The pantry used to be part of the bomb shelter built during the war. Even had the whole house been standing directly outside the pantry door, they would have barely heard me."

Making some final notes, Vicki thanked the butler for his time, telling him that she may need to question him again. He then escorted the blonde detective to the foyer where Henry was waiting.

"Thank you again for your time, Mr. Morris. Please thank Mr. MacWoolton for us and let him know that we will be in touch." Vicki stated.

"Of course, Miss Nelson. Goodnight. Mr. Fitzroy," Morris said and closed the door behind them.

"Anything?" Vicki asked Henry as they descended the front steps towards the car.

"No. No signs of tampering or footprints. It's still very cold, Vicki, the ground is too hard to hold shoe impressions.' Henry said apologetically, "What did you find out?"

Reaching the car and opening the door with her left hand, Vicki turned and looked at Henry, "That things just got a lot more complicated."


End file.
